


On the Edge of Something

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: When Merlin finds himself trapped in a mysterious cottage with Arthur Pendragon, his memories surface even as he faces a new future.





	On the Edge of Something

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Borderlands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/315242) by [Nympha_Alba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nympha_Alba/pseuds/Nympha_Alba). 



> Dear Readers,
> 
> I have used flash-backs throughout this story - hopefully they're obvious but if not, please drop me a comment and I will see what I can do! All the dialogue between Arthur and Merlin before the epilogue is from Nympha_Alba's original story.
> 
> Dear Nympha_Alba,
> 
> I was delighted to receive you as my remixee this year, and even more thrilled when I found Borderlands in your body of work. It's one of my all-time favourites but I hadn't been able to find it again so was delighted to see it. Once we've all de-anoned I can kudos, comment and bookmark it properly! I hope you enjoy what I've done - I had great fun with it as it was a bit of a puzzle to get it to flow. Thanks again for providing such an excellent story to remix. x

 

Silence and mist surround Merlin. Just moments before he had been travelling in the midst of a group, surrounded by his comrades, as quiet conversations, hoof beats, and the metallic sounds of armour and tack disturbed the day. Now, there is no indication that any of his party is nearby and the scent of magic is heavy in the air.

Somehow, coming across the deserted cottage is not a surprise. He steps inside, leaving the door wide open behind him as he explores. A click brings him back to the hall, and the door is now firmly closed. With a frown, he turns the handle and raises his eyebrows as it refuses to open. His mouth twists and he makes his way around the rooms again, trying every window and external door he can find. None will open, physically or with the use of magic. For the moment it seems as if he’s a prisoner and he begins to explore his jail more thoroughly.

The sound of the door opening disturbs his exploration before he can get too far and he makes his way warily towards the hall from the kitchen.

There is a man standing there, his attention on the closed door. Bright gold hair, tall and strong, broad shoulders, and the red cape tell Merlin immediately who this is. Even if his face hasn’t haunted Merlin’s dreams for years, he would still be able to guess. Merlin sighs gently and the newcomer spins around, gauntleted hand resting, ready, on the hilt of a fine sword. Prince Arthur Pendragon. Merlin had been part of the previous delegation to Camelot and had seen the young prince then, watching as he tried to convince his father to continue the negotiations. The intervening years have chased the boyishness from Arthur’s face and form. This is a man, currently suspicious and battle ready.

Merlin’s pulse misses a beat and then speeds up. "There's no one here," he says, mainly to break the silence.

" _You're_ here," Arthur says.

No wonder Arthur sounds tense, Merlin thinks, it matches his own current state of mind, but he knows they’re going to have to work together and so stifles the sarcastic comment that springs to his lips about stating the obvious.

"I don't live here. I only just arrived. The house is empty save for the two of us. Were you forced here by the fog?"

Arthur frowns at him. "Yes."

The suspicion Arthur regards him with isn’t helped when Merlin provides him with the information that they’ve been brought here deliberately and can’t leave.

Arthur is frowning at him. "You seem familiar," he says slowly. "Have we met before?"

Merlin can’t help but smile at him "Met is perhaps an overstatement, but we've spent some time in the same room. I had the honour of visiting Camelot two years ago. I'm Merlin; I was part of the Mercian delegation at the peace treaty negotiations."

**

“So, Merlin, what think you of a possible alliance with Camelot?”

“You’re asking my opinion, Sire?”

“I frequently do.”

“On things related to magic, you do. Shouldn’t you be asking your Council about this?”

“But this is to do with magic, isn’t it?” Bayard waves Merlin to a seat and gestures to his servant to pour them wine, and then waits until the door closes behind him and they’re left alone.

“Magic is illegal in Camelot.” Merlin says.

“It’s illegal here, too.”

“Technically.” Merlin grins at his King. Over the years they have grown to trust one another and Merlin finds an ease in his company that would astonish his ten-year old self.

Bayard waves a hand at him, dismissing his response. “So, what think you?”

“I think peace is always worth the effort.” Merlin’s response is prompt.

“Even with Uther’s stance on magic – and what he does to those found with magic?”

Merlin shudders, he can’t help it. Those with magic who’ve made it to the safety of Mercia tell terrible stories. “All the more reason. And you know what the crystals have shown me.” He looks down as he feels the heat in his cheeks bloom.

“That you and Arthur Pendragon have a destiny. The crystals do not lie.” Bayard sounds amused, but there is an undercurrent Merlin can’t decipher.

“No, but they can be tricky. If Gaius didn’t insist, I wouldn’t touch them.”

“Yet this is something they consistently show you.” Bayard presses and Merlin wonders where this is heading 

“Yes,” Merlin has to admit it, though he does so reluctantly. He’s told Gaius, Hunith and Bayard of the prophecy, a foretelling supported by the Druids who travel through Mercia and provide part of Merlin’s teaching. But Merlin hasn’t spoken to anyone of his feelings at the sight of the golden Prince.

“You’re going to go to Camelot?” Merlin recognises  Bayard has already made up his mind. 

“I don’t have much hope for success, but at the very least it will provide an opportunity to gain some intelligence.”

“I’d like to go with you.”

Bayard frowns at that. “it’s too dangerous, Merlin. If anyone realises you have magic the consequences for us all would be bad enough, but for you –“

“I can cast a spell that will suppress my magic,” Merlin says. “No one will know.”

Bayard tilts his head and there’s a curious smile on his face. “I wonder why you’re so keen to go?”

Merlin can’t stop the blush.

Bayard laughs. “We’ll see,” is all he says and then shoos Merlin away. 

As Merlin lifts the latch, Bayard stops him.

“The prophecy is that Arthur Pendragon will unite the five Kingdoms?”

Merlin nods, his brow puckering in confusion. Bayard knows this.

The King nods his dismissal. “I’ll tell you when I’ve decided on my delegation.”

Merlin slips out of the room, hoping Bayard agrees to him going. He wants to see the reality of Arthur Pendragon. A delightful shiver passes through him. He wants to see Arthur Pendragon in the flesh.

**

They work well together, as if they’ve known one another for years rather than the reality of a scant candle mark. When they’ve finished checking the rooms, they meet once more to discuss the position they’re in. Merlin can see the effect the imprisonment is already having on Arthur. Well, however they’re going to get out of here, it’s clear magic will have to be part of the solution at least. Merlin sighs and decides abruptly that he’s not going to either hide or lie. Arthur provides him with the opening he needs.

“You still think the house is created by magic?"

"I know it is," Merlin says. "I can sense it; I can sense the magic at work. I feel the structure of it."

Merlin isn’t particularly surprised to find himself at the dangerous end of a sword, but refuses to be cowed.

"One of Bayard's men!" Arthur hisses, hot with anger. "You have magic. You're Bayard's _sorcerer_."

**

“So, you’re Gaius’ nephew – and his new apprentice, I understand?”

Merlin freezes. He recognises that voice, though this is the first time it is being directed at him.

He turns to face King Bayard and manages a sketchy bow.

The King is leaning against a pillar, his arms folded and completely at his ease.

“Yes, Sire.” Merlin remembers to address Bayard properly. 

“Gaius speaks well of you already. He says that with training you will be an asset for Mercia.”

That’s a surprise to Merlin. In the few months since he and his mother arrived, Gaius has undertaken his education with zeal and an almost constant criticism. Merlin didn’t mind too much, his hunger for knowledge, both medical and magical, makes him an eager, if impetuous, student. To know that Gaius, so sparing with words of praise, has spoken to the King about him in such a way sends a flush of pleasure and pride.

“I like to learn, Sire.” Merlin already knows his mother admires Bayard and speaks of him as a king who cares for his people and land. That approval is enough for Merlin and he meets Bayard’s eyes, unaware of the fearlessness and directness of his own gaze. Even as young as Merlin is, he still recognises the cool calculation in the look Bayard is bestowing on him, yet that is tempered by the humour in his expression.

“Good. You will attend me once a week to discuss all that you have learned.” There’s a distinct meaning in his voice and Merlin swallows as he realises the King is well aware of his magic.

“Yes, Sire,” he says, wondering how he’ll ever be able to actually talk to the King. Bayard walks away with a casual wave of his hand, leaving Merlin to stare after him, filled with consternation.

When he mentions his worries to Gaius and Hunith, they laugh loud and long. He stares at them, frowning at their amusement. 

“Oh Merlin, my love,” Hunith manages at last. “I don’t think we need ever worry about you not talking – to anyone.”

He sulks for a while, but in the end has to admit the truth of it. He’s shy for only a few moments in his first meeting with the King the following week, but before long he’s chattering like a magpie.

Over the years the conversations change and Merlin often does more listening than talking as the king and the sorcerer become friends.

**

The memory of that first meeting flashes through Merlin’s mind as he faces Arthur now, wondering how he would have fared if he’d had to live in a land ruled by a magic-hating Uther Pendragon. It seems as if his son has inherited all Uther’s prejudices – without having any idea of the root of them.

"Let me point out three things, Arthur Pendragon," he says, still with his chin tilted up by Arthur's sword. "First, that if I had wanted to harm you in any way, I'd have done so already - I've had plenty of time and opportunity. Secondly, that I could blast you across the room before your sword point even pierced my skin. Thirdly, if you're planning to kill me, you should know that you'll probably need me to get out of here at all."

They argue for a few moments until Arthur staggers and Merlin notices he is flushed and sweating, recognising all the sign of a rapidly rising fever.

As soon as Merlin recalls his brief tussle in freeing his cloak of the Devil’s Blackthorn, he curses under his breath. He makes Arthur as comfortable as he can on the narrow cot and then heads for the kitchen. His eyebrows rise as he sees how well-stocked it is, with food, drink and medicaments. Clearly, they are meant to be comfortable in their captivity. A thought as to the possible perpetrator surfaces and he sighs, but he doesn’t have time to consider the reasons for this scenario just yet. Quickly, he brews a cooling mixture and takes it and cold water back to the bedroom. By the time he gets there, Arthur is already sinking fast into the fever and is tossing and turning.

Merlin sets to work, ignoring Arthur as he mutters worriedly about Camelot, about wanting peace, about the endless disappointment he is to his father. Merlin’s heart goes out to him as he understands graphically the load Arthur carries. He soothes him as best he can, getting him to drink the potion and then pressing his palm to the scratches that are the source of the poison, he knows his eyes flare gold as he begins the battle in earnest to save Arthur’s life.

Its an exhausting battle. To his everlasting disappointment, healing magic has never been one of his strengths, but he’s been well taught and the possibility of losing Arthur is not to be borne, so he perseveres. At last, Arthur stills and his skin cools, the inflammation from the scratches subsiding and then finally disappearing. Exhaustion takes Merlin then and he sleeps, only waking long enough to slide into the bed beside Arthur to warm him hen he wakes with the cold and they both sleep.

Merlin finally eases himself out of the narrow cot when the foggy light suggests to him that the day is well underway. He leaves the cot with some reluctance and stands looking down at Arthur’s peaceful features. Thanking the Gods both the potion and the magic worked, Merlin smiles at his golden prince, gazing his fill for a few moments before acknowledging that when Arthur woke, he was likely to be hungry. His own stomach rumbled at the thought of food and with a final touch to the coolness of Arthur’s brow, he makes his way to the kitchen.

**

Merlin’s grateful to see Arthur looking so well, if pale, when he finally makes his appearance. Something has shifted between them and Merlin, thinking of the hours he’d lain beside Arthur and held him close, hopes he understands what this might mean. When Arthur mentions the wish for a bath, he takes his chance.

"Have you ever seen anyone perform magic?" he asks.

Arthur shakes his head. "I've seen the _effects_ of magic - evil and destructive. You're making it sound so domestic, reducing it to nice, cosy stuff like heating bathwater."

"Magic can be all those things," Merlin says, "and so much more. You shouldn't make the mistake of thinking it's evil. People can be good or evil, but magic is neither. It just _is_ \- like nature. You don't call a river evil because someone drowned in it."

Having made his point, he suits actions to words, and starts a little at the wonder he sees on Arthur’s face. It was not the expression he expected. He smiles. His smile fades as Arthur shrugs off his clothes without a thought to modesty and sinks into the hot water with a groan. Merlin know he’s gawping, but can’t stop, his body reacts and he aches to touch.

**

When Arthur has bathed, they eat and discuss their situation. Merlin tries not to be disappointed as Arthur becomes angry, especially when Merlin refuses to tell him about Nimueh. There’s no doubt in Merlin’s mind that she is responsible for their current situation even if, for the moment, he doesn’t know what she could possibly gain from it.

"I don't suppose," he asks, "that you remember a man named Gaius?"

Arthur looks surprised by the abrupt question. "Yes, of course I do. He used to be my father's court physician."

Merlin wonders at the sudden soft expression until Arthur continues.

"Gaius disappeared when I was seven. I never knew what happened to him. I missed him - still do, sometimes."

"You weren't aware, then," Merlin asks gently, "that Gaius has magic?"

**

They travel for weeks, walking at night and resting during the day, staying away from towns and villages and living off the land as much as possible. When he’s older, Merlin will marvel over the thought and planning his mother has put into their escape. In the middle of the autumn season, there’s a bounty of food to glean from the woodland, rivers and meadows.   Despite the constant awareness of his mother’s caution, there’s still a sense of adventure and magic about that time in his memory, a deep golden haze of cool woods and warm sweeping land. He’s too young to recognise his mother’s real fear, but he soon learns to curb his enthusiastic shouts and to draw into cover, silent and wary, whenever they hear the sounds of others approaching. By the time they walk into the safety of Bayard’s lands, their clothes are threadbare and even Merlin has lost his urge to chatter. They stumble to a halt and stand in the middle of a market place, jostled by the people as they pass, and no one takes any notice of them. After life in a tiny village and the silence of the countryside, the sudden noise and bustle around them in this unknown place is overwhelming. For the first time Merlin is afraid.

A man’s voice, surprised and disbelieving, calls Hunith’s name. With a sob, she turns and walks into the arms of a white-haired man.

“Gaius. Oh Gaius.”

Gaius ushers them back to his own quarters within the palace, a strong arm holding Hunith close to him as she stumbles at his side. It turns out he’s Bayard’s physician and his counsel on other matters but Merlin gives little heed to the information, frightened by the sight of his mother close to collapse.

“Don’t worry, my boy, she’s been very worried and now she knows you’re both safe. It’s just a reaction. A few days rest and she’ll be as good as new. You can both stay with me. Oops.” His hands full with Hunith, Gaius fumbles with his bag as it slips off his shoulder and glass vials begin to tumble out.

Merlin reacts without thinking, reaching out a hand to stop the time in a little bubble around the glass. Quickly, he gathers up the vials. pops them in the bag and relieves Gaius of its weight. Only then does he realise what he’s done and stares up in fright.

Hunith hasn’t even noticed, her face waxy and eyes closed. Merlin gulps.

Gaius chuckles, seemingly delighted. “Well, well, my boy, that’s a prodigious talent. Try and be a little more careful, though. No one minds magic here but it’s not technically legal, hmm. Now, let’s get you both home.”

**

Merlin sees Arthur’s struggle, realises that love for a father is at odds with his knowledge that Uther is not a particularly good king. He’s not sure if Arthur would go quite that far in his thinking, but he does seem to acknowledge the man has his faults. If he can see that, then Merlin begins to hope for the future of Camelot and her people.

“Everyone should have a fair trial, regardless of who they are or what they've done." Arthur says.

Yes.

“One day, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin says, "you'll be a great king. One whose people will always remain by his side. I came to Mercia as a refugee, too - from Escetia. Ealdor, my village, was very poor and suffered cruelly under Cenred. When I was ten and my magic had established itself, my mother fled with me to Mercia.”

**

It isn’t Merlin’s earliest memory, but it is certainly the most powerful. He remembers starting, waking from a deep sleep. His mother is shaking his shoulder, her hand across his mouth stifling his squeak of alarm at being so rudely disturbed.

Her voice is low, her mouth close to his ear.

“We have to go now, Merlin. You must stay very quiet. Do you understand?”

Ten years old, a little frightened and still more than half-asleep, he could still nod his head. The tone in his mother’s voice, the urgency in it, is enough. His trust in her is absolute and if she says they had to leave in silence in the middle of the night, then he will follow her.

In the darkness, he struggles into the clothes she hands him and stands still and quiet while she straps a little bundle of belongings to his back, presses a kiss to his forehead and then leads him to the back of their small home. She pulls aside a panel he’s never noticed before, opening the hut to the night. When he’s older and looks back on this night, he marvels at his mother’s planning, at the preparations she had made in secret, to ensure that should they have to, they can leave the village without anyone being the wiser.

In minutes, they’re under the cover of the trees, a heavy mist drifting around them, helping to muffle any sound of their passing. His mother has a tight grip of his hand, and he can’t help the pained whimper as she squeezes hard. Immediately, she loosens her hold a little, pressing her lips to his fingers in a silent apology as they flee into the night.

**

Arthur clearly can’t cope with much more tonight and Merlin watches him go. A little later, when he looks in on him he seems restless, but when Merlin touches his forehead with the back of his hand it’s cool enough. Frowning slightly, he resists the temptation to slide into the bed with Arthur and instead seeks the second bedroom, letting his own exhaustion drag him down into sleep.

He feels refreshed when he wakes, and lies in the comfort of the cot as he considers all they know. Now that he’s sure Nimueh is behind this, he thinks he can begin to see possible solutions. First though, he has to persuade Arthur to part with his sword.

He grins and, surprisingly light-hearted, he gets up to face the day.

It turns out to be easier than expected to persuade Arthur and Merlin is warmed by the trust. He does what he can to find out what is happening in the courts of the two kings, though it’s not a great deal. He knows his surprise is obvious when Arthur asks if he could see Gaius and wonders a little at the emotion Arthur hides so badly at the sight of Gaius pottering about his room. It’s a familiar enough scene to Merlin and he smiles softly, and doesn’t question or follow Arthur when he mumbles his thanks and leaves the room quickly. 

It’s a long day, and Arthur becomes increasingly edgy as it goes on. Merlin’s aware of the tension building between them but it’s not until the next day that it becomes tangible, spills over into passion and in the end, Merlin can’t help it when, sleepy and content, he tells Arthur he loves him. After a moment, Arthur’s arms tighten around him and a kiss is pressed to his forehead. Merlin is smiling as he falls asleep.

**

When Merlin untangles Nimueh’s motivation, he has the means to break through the spell. The thought of what might happen if Uther finds them together provides the urgency and the knowledge of the horrors she would set loose to further her own selfish ends provides an anger than powers his spells.

It’s only when they’re outside, surrounded by clear vistas that he realises what this means. The bubble they’ve been living in, the relationship forged within it, can’t possibly continue in the same way. For the first time Merlin is beset by doubt. Perhaps Arthur will be glad it’s over?

"Merlin, wait." Arthur's hand is grabbing his cloak.. "It could be years before I see you again," he says. "I can't... I don't want to wait years."

The relief has Merlin smiling. Once he’s kissed him quickly, he heads off, and soon sees the column of men, led by Bayard in the distance. He hails him and is a little surprised by Bayard’s obvious joy. In a moment, Bayard is off his horse and striding to meet him.

“Sire,” Merlin begins, ready to spill out all – most – some – of what has happened since they last met.

Instead, Bayard pulls him into a rough embrace. “My boy, I thought we’d lost you.” There’s the slightest hitch in his voice and he pushes Merlin to arms length to consider him. In the next moment, Merlin is totally bereft of words.

“Come, my son, let’s get you home.”

**

**Epilogue**

Arthur stares out at the moon, bright and full in the clear sky. It’s a full month since his entrapment with Merlin and the days have dragged.

_“On a brightly moonlit night, watch for a bird of prey."_

Arthur watches.

As the moon reaches its zenith, there’s a flurry of wings and then a merlin – of course, thinks Arthur – swoops in through the open window. There’s a shimmer of gold around it, turning into a pillar of light and when it fades, Merlin, gloriously naked, is standing in front of him. The gold is just fading from his eyes and he’s laughing in delight.

Arthur steps forward and pulls him into his arms. “You idiot, you might have been caught.” Then he stifles any response Merlin might choose to make.

Later, much later, Arthur shifts out of Merlin’s arms and asks. “Why arrive here naked? Not that I was complaining.”

Merlin chuckles. “I can’t seem to manage the transmogrification spell and keep my clothes. Every time I try it dressed I end up losing the clothes altogether. Besides, if I’m using it to visit you, I’m not going to need any, am I?” And he slides his body suggestively against Arthur’s.

Arthur’s about to argue about it being too dangerous, but Merlin being coquettish distracts him and he forgets about his concerns for more pleasurable pastimes.

The night is well-advanced when Arthur is shaken awake.

“What’s wrong?”

Merlin is sitting up in the bed, and in the dim light of the fire, Arthur can see he’s frowning.

“I can hear someone calling me.”

Arthur listens, and shakes his head. “I hear nothing.”

Merlin is already scrambling out of the bed. “ _Now_ I need something to wear,” he says, sounding exasperated.

Arthur follows him, hardly noticing when Merlin lights a couple of candles with a flash of gold eyes and a wave of his hand. “Don’t tell me you think you’re going to wander about the castle?” Despite, his objection, he’s already pulling out small clothes, breeches and a shirt, before gathering together his own clothing. He feels sudden heat flash across his cheeks as he realises how widely his clothes are strewn and recalls the passion with which they’d been discarded.

He dresses quickly and in silence, and when he turns to Merlin it’s to find he’s watching, his expression warm and with something in his eyes that makes Arthur’s heart beat faster.

“Come on, then, you’d better lead the way – you’re the one hearing a voice.” He tries for a long-suffering tone, but thinks it probably sounds the way he feels, a little indulgent.

“I can cast a spell to stop people noticing us. Don’t worry, love.” 

Arthur can’t help but smile and he takes the hand held out to him.

Down and down they travel, first on smooth stone steps, then rougher. They ease their way into parts of the castle Arthur has never ventured into, past guards who seem to have no purpose and onto stone steps hewn from the very rock. Eventually, they find themselves in a great cavern, standing on a ledge overlooking a chasm.

“The voice came from here, I’m sure of it.”

Merlin doesn’t sound very sure, Arthur thinks, but before he can speak there’s the sound of metal, and of something that sounds like huge wings.

In the next moment, they’re both stumbling backwards as a dragon settles on a rocky pinnacle in front of them.

There’s silence for a moment, then as Merlin and Arthur walk forward hand in hand, the dragon speaks.

“Now _this_ is unexpected.”

 

Fin


End file.
